by Liz Johnson
Oh. Oh.
It had been guilt she’d seen in his eyes earlier. Because he hadn’t loved Adelaide. At least, hadn’t loved her. But surely marrying for reasons other than love wasn’t all that uncommon for people in his position. And obviously he’d cared about her. Probably even cherished her.
“I was selfish, Rowan. So horridly selfish. I married Adelaide for the support she could offer instead of the soul-deep love she deserved.”
She touched his arm. They’d switched roles sometime in the past minute or two. She’d gone from the one being comforted to the one who longed to comfort him. But how? What could she say to ease this burden he’d clearly been carrying with him for so long?
Maybe there wasn’t anything to say. Instead, she simply leaned into him, hoping her embrace would do for him what his had for her just moments ago. Silent seconds ticked by as she breathed in the scent of him—soap and spice.
Finally, he spoke into her hair. “See what I mean? Unhappy and happy at the same time.”
“What?”
He drew his hands upward to cup her cheeks until she looked at him. “I’m unhappy when I think about my selfishness and weakness. But at the same time, I’m pretty sure here, in Tinsel, with you . . .” His voice dropped—deep, low, enticing. “I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.”
Her breath caught. “Jonah.” His name released in a whisper.
He kissed her then. So tentative at first she wasn’t sure it’d even happened. Wondered if the dust in the attic had gotten to her. If she’d dreamed it up . . .
But when he said her name and kissed her again, she knew—thank God—this was real. And that maybe all the best things didn’t only happen in books. She gripped his shirt and leaned into him, returning his kiss with all her happiness. Only happiness.
Chapter 8
“I need you to go home, Ham.”
Jonah lugged the oversized cardboard box over the floor of the Mystery Room. It might’ve been easier to troop out to the forest, chop down an evergreen and drag it back to the library than haul this packed-up fake tree from the storage shed behind the house. Hamish’s own arms were full with the boxes of decorations they’d found with the tree.
Hamish dropped the boxes onto one of the sofas by the fireplace.
“Careful, there could be breakable stuff in there.”
“Sorry, but after what you just said, I’ve lost any and all interest in this latest unpaid assignment from Rowan.”
Well, Jonah was looking forward to this. Back home, a bevvy of staff under the guidance of the palace decorator always decked out the palace come Christmas-time. He’d never even so much as placed an ornament on the tree.
“It’s my assignment. No one asked you to help.” If Jonah had his way, Hamish wouldn’t be here right now, nor would any of the committee members blustering about the places or the library patrons consuming Rowan’s attention.
One of them was at the circulation desk now, chattering away as Rowan stamped her way through a pile of books. She wore leggings and the same long, gray sweater she had the day of the fire. Only this time, she’d paired it with a t-shirt with the words “When in Doubt, Go to the Library.”
She’d never been prettier.
And he . . . he was just a goner, that’s what. That remarkable kiss yesterday afternoon in her mom’s attic had changed everything. Everything.
He’d originally gone up those attic stairs thinking maybe he’d talk to Rowan about the library. Keep his word to the mayor and gently break the news that even a skillfully put-together event wouldn’t change the town’s plans for the relocation. But there’d been no possibility of rational thought after that kiss.
Though it’d been cut far too short when one of Rowan’s stepsiblings had come looking for them. He’d not paid a speck of attention to the rest of that football game. Barely remembered saying goodbye to Rowan’s family later in the evening. Probably would’ve kissed her again when she’d dropped him off at the hotel if Hamish hadn’t been standing by a lobby window watching for him.
And he knew now that he’d been falling for Rowan Bell since that first night right here in this room. What he felt for her—he’d never felt it before. It was a magnetic pull, charged with desire, awakening a longing in him so strong it wouldn’t matter if he’d known her only ten minutes instead of ten days.
Her gorgeous blue eyes and hair and smile and everything had intrigued him on that first night, but it was her beautiful spirit and unforced friendship, her endless loyalty and soft emotion that had captured him entirely.
He didn’t exactly know what this meant. Didn’t know what could come of it. But he still had two weeks to find out. The first step? Making sure Rowan noticed the book he’d left on the corner of her desk this morning.
“If things weren’t so dire at the moment, I’d take great joy in telling you what a lovesick puppy dog you look like just now, Jonah.”
Jonah whipped his gaze away from Rowan and narrowed his eyes at Hamish. “You know what? I think you’ve gotten a little too comfortable with our current informality.”
Hamish lifted one eyebrow. “You want me to go back to calling you Your Majesty?”
Arms straining, Jonah moved the Christmas tree box into the center of the room, its corner catching on the tasseled rug. “I’ve already told you what I want. I want you to go back to Concordia.”
“Jonah—”
He let go of the box and it thumped against the floor. “I can’t get through to Geordie. Brick is being . . . a brick. I need someone I can trust on the ground.”
“Or you could just go back yourself.”
“I can’t do that.”
Hamish folded his arms. “Why?”
Jonah ripped the packing tape from the tree box, refusing to answer.
“I know you like her. But you have Concordia to think about.”
He yanked open the box. “You think I haven’t been thinking about Concordia?”
“I think you’ve tried. But you’ve been distracted. This trip was supposed to be about clearing your head, coming up with a vision. Instead, you’ve spent over a week playing handyman and assistant librarian in between taking a dozen walks and disappearing for hours at a time.”
Jonah pulled a pile of wiry branches from the box. “Didn’t you just a few days ago tell me you were happy to see me finally interested in someone?”
“Interested, yes. But forgetting why you’re here and who you are—”
“I have not forgotten.” He thrust the branches back into the box and stood. He paced to the window, felt the cold reaching from the glass. “I have not forgotten.” He said it softer this time.
To convince Hamish . . . or himself?
The older man didn’t speak for a moment, but his pause said plenty. His concern was palpable—for Jonah, for their country, for whatever it was Geordie might be planning.
Or he’s not planning anything. He’s just enjoying the limelight.
It was getting harder and harder to believe that.
But Jonah couldn’t go home now. He couldn’t. It wasn’t just Rowan tying him to this place. It was the conviction that he hadn’t yet finished what he’d started. He hadn’t even written his Christmas Day speech yet.
He simply couldn’t go home until he could return in the right way. As a new man with a new vision. One who could lead.
“I’m not ready yet, Ham.”
“Sometimes we don’t get the luxury of being ready, Your Majesty.” Hamish stepped to his side.
Your Majesty. Jonah closed his eyes. Expelled a breath. Searched his mind for what it was that pastor had said in church yesterday.
“God rarely asks us to do what is easy. He calls us to hard things. To love when we don’t feel like loving. To serve when we don’t feel like serving. But in the hard things, He never leaves our side. Emmanuel. God with us.”
Was God calling Jonah to a hard thing now? Asking him to leave before he was ready? To turn away from what might be the kind
of storybook love he’d read in a thousand novels?
He opened his eyes and ignored Hamish and let himself look into the next room.
To Rowan. She’d found the book he’d left on her desk, like the others before. She was just picking it up, running her fingers over its yellowed and peeling dust jacket. Probably wondering why in the world he’d picked this one. Winnie-the-Pooh.
He watched as she cracked it open. Fingered her way through its pages. Looking for his penciled underline. He knew the precise moment she found it. First her lips curved and then they moved as she silently read the line he’d chosen.
“I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen.”
As if feeling the brush of his gaze, she lifted her eyes and turned her head. Her smile could launch a fleet of ships or stop a war—it was that compelling. He couldn’t even form his own in response. Could only, barely, nudge his head, prodding her to keep turning pages.
She did. Until a slip of a paper fell out. A blank library card he’d found behind her desk. He’d scribbled the words hours ago. “Take an adventure with me? Tonight?”
He waited, watched as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. For one panicked moment, he worried she wouldn’t understand. A date, Rowan. I want to go on a date with you.
But then, with a slow grin, she leaned forward. Picked up her stamp. Tapped it in her ink pad. And marked the card. Her answer.
He let out a breath. Didn’t care that he was probably beaming like . . . like exactly what Hamish had said. A lovesick puppy dog.
“I’ll go. I’ll go today.”
At the sound of Hamish’s resigned voice, Jonah turned. “Thank you.”
The older man moved away.
“Hamish?”
He stopped.
“I really mean it. Thank you for everything. For following me here. For believing in me. I’m not going to let you down. I’m not going to let Concordia down.”
Hamish waited, as if not sure he should say his next words. Finally, he opened his mouth. “That thing your father always said—‘When the king speaks, the people listen.’ Geordie is speaking, Jonah. And the people are listening. You need to decide what it is you want to say. You need to say it soon. Before the people refuse to listen.”
If someone were to ask Rowan to pinpoint the most perfect night of her life, she wouldn’t have to think for more than a moment. She wouldn’t have to think at all.
Tonight.
It was more than perfect. It was unforgettable. It was enchanting.
She only hoped it wasn’t over.
Jonah pulled her closer to his side, his palm somehow warm around her mitten despite the cold and the sloping wind, sending snowflakes curling from the awning over the sidewalk. They’d already had a candlelight dinner at Tinsel’s lone upscale restaurant—Mountain View Terrace, its second floor dining room encased entirely by heated windows. Not once had they run out of conversation.
Then they’d walked to the town square and joined the flurry of skaters at the ice rink. She’d tried to teach Jonah to skate backwards. Had failed miserably and landed with him on the ice more than once. He’d bought her a cup of homemade hot chocolate at the little stand on the corner, topped with whipped cream and crushed up candy canes.
It was nearing eleven p.m. now. The town square had lulled into a hushed, empty place. Storefront lights had dimmed one by one and moments ago, even the Christmas tree had blinked into darkness, followed by the strings of twinkle lights wrapped around every lamppost in sight.
Snow crunched underfoot and a streetlight flickered overhead. “We’ll be walking in the dark soon,” she murmured.
Jonah laced his fingers through hers. “Why are you whispering?”
“Because it’s so quiet. I’ve never seen the downtown so deserted.”
“I like it. I’ve finally got you all to myself.”
Didn’t he realize he’d had her all to himself from the moment he’d picked her up at the library hours ago? They might’ve been surrounded by filled tables at the restaurant. They might’ve been joined on the ice by two or three dozen townspeople.
But Rowan hadn’t registered a one of them.
“And it’s probably a good thing no one’s around to see us make our next stop. They might wonder what in the world we’re doing.”
“What in the world are we doing?”
“You’ll see.” He picked up his pace, leading her down the block and around a corner, coming to a stop in front of a brick building with metallic letters on the side.
“The newspaper office? What are we doing here?”
“Well, we’re not breaking in. Not this time.” He let go of her hand and pulled a key from his pocket. “I came prepared.”
“How did you get a key? And . . . why?”
“So many questions. So little patience.” He tucked the key into the lock and gave it a turn. He pushed open the door and stepped aside to usher Rowan in. “After you, Miss Bell.”
She gave him a teasing curtsy as she passed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
She stopped just inside the entrance, the inky smell of newsprint wrapping around her. It was too dark to try to make her way any further in. They needed to find a light switch or use one of their phones or—
A circle of light snapped to life. She spun around to see Jonah holding a flashlight.
“Told you I came prepared.”
He grabbed her hand again and lured her further into the newsroom, past desks, computers, printers. Through another door and down an empty hall. Until he stopped in front of a closed door. He tipped his light toward the stenciled letters on the door’s placard. Archive Room.
“This is the one.”
“Jonah, for real, what are we do—”
He cut her off with a dip of his head and brush of his lips. The merest of kisses—their first since Sunday and far too brief. And if she weren’t so stunned and if her heart hadn’t just skipped a beat or two or twenty, she’d have wrapped her arms around his neck and demanded he give it another go.
Instead, all she could do was try to make herself breathe while he winked and grinned and pushed the door open.
She pulled off her mittens as she followed him inside, scanning the cramped room. Rows of shelving packed with tall black books.
“I am seriously so confused.”
Jonah stood close enough she could feel the rumble in his chest when he chuckled. “You won the paper’s writing contest three years in a row. I want to read your stories.” He used his free hand to unwind the scarf from her neck, his voice low and sweet. “I want to meet your talking fruit.”
“Jonah Harrison Archer Davies VI, you are something else.”
His voice dropped a notch deeper. “Since when do you know my full name?”
“Since I read that entire encyclopedia entry.”
His arm moved around her waist, her scarf dropping to the floor behind her. “Have I told you yet how captivating you are, Rowan Bell?” His lips were near her ear and if the rhythm of her heart had sped moments ago, it ceased altogether now. He pressed a kiss just below her ear. Another on her cheek.
Her hands found their way to his chest just as his lips found hers. If yesterday’s kiss in Mom’s attic had been the tiniest bit tentative, this one was wonderfully, brilliantly certain and sure. So bursting with feeling it was all she could do to stay standing.
But even if her legs had buckled, it wouldn’t have mattered. Jonah’s hold was secure and his kiss filled with promise. And she could happily stay like this, right here in this archive room, forever. Just never leave . . .
I hope he never leaves.
With a jerk, she pulled away, backed up. Tried to catch her breath.
“Rowan?” Jonah’s voice was nearly a rasp.
“You’re going to leave.”
“What?” He stepped toward her.
She stepped back. “You’re going to go back to Concordia. Hamish already left. Christmas is only two weeks away. I . . . I don’t
know if. . . if we should . . .”
He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then seemed to think better of it, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’ve been trying not to think about that. Not tonight, anyway.”
“I’ve been trying not to think about it for days. I’ve never met anyone like you, Jonah.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “You’ve never met another king who has run away from his country?”
“I’ve never met another man who . . .” She searched her heart for words to do her feelings justice. “A man who makes all the heroes in all the books pale in comparison.”
When he closed the gap between them again, she didn’t resist and instead gave in to the need to close her arms around him, lay her head against his chest.
“I thought you weren’t much of a reader, Miss Librarian.”
“Fine. All the heroes in all the movies.”
“I’m not sure what it is you’re seeing in me, Rowan,” he said into her hair. “I don’t feel heroic. Not in the least. The fact of the matter is, I’m a man who married my best friend knowing she deserved more than I had to give. I’m a leader who has struggled to lead for months, and I’m a king who right at this moment is losing the will to put his country’s needs above his own desires.”
“Adelaide made a choice too, you know. If she was truly your best friend, then she knew how you felt going in to the marriage. She chose to marry you anyway.” There was truth and comfort in her words, if only he’d let himself grasp it. “As for putting your country’s needs above your own desires, haven’t we had dozens of conversations about Concordia on all our walks? I see the look in your eyes when you talk about your country. I hear both the devotion and the gravity in your voice.
“You will do the right thing for Concordia. You’ll do it over and over for however many years you reign. Because that’s the man you are.” Rowan leaned away so she could put her hands on his cheeks. “You should look in a mirror sometime, Jonah. Really look. You might just see the hero I do.”
